The wedding ceremony blurred past me in a haze of applause, camera flashes, and congratulatory smiles. I remembered repeating vows I didn't mean, slipping a ring onto Damien's finger, and receiving one in return. It gleamed like gold, but felt like iron.
After the ceremony, a reception followed in the ballroom — a polished, elegant affair full of influential guests. Damien stood beside me as we greeted investors and board members, accepting compliments as if he were born to it.
"You both look radiant tonight," someone said.
Damien smiled charmingly. "Thank you. Zara brings out the best in me."
To the room, it sounded romantic. But I understood that tone now — that public-mask warmth. It wasn't real. It was strategy.
During a brief lull in conversations, I excused myself and stepped toward the refreshment table, needing a moment to breathe. Leon appeared beside me like he'd been waiting.
"So," he said lightly, "how does it feel being Mrs. Hale?"
I laughed softly. "Like I've been promoted into a role I don't fully understand."
Leon tilted his head slightly, studying me. "You understand more than you think. You're handling all this with grace."
I met his eyes. "Thank you. That means more than you know."
He hesitated, then lowered his voice. "Can I tell you something without it being inappropriate?"
"Go on."
"I'm glad it's you," he said. "Of all the possible brides Damien could've chosen… you're the one who looks like she'll actually make him face himself."
Something fluttered in my chest. "I'm not sure anyone can make him do that."
Leon's smile was soft. "You'd be surprised."
Before I could respond, Damien suddenly appeared at my side, his arm slipping around my waist in a gesture that looked affectionate to everyone else — but felt like a territorial flag.
"What were you two discussing?" he asked mildly.
Leon's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Just welcoming your bride to the battlefield."
Damien's eyes narrowed, though his smile remained for the audience. "Zara doesn't need commentary. She's fully aware of her position."
Leon met his gaze evenly. "I'm sure she is."
The tension between them thickened, almost tangible.
A couple walked up to greet us, breaking the moment. While Damien shook their hands, Leon gently leaned toward me.
"If you ever need someone to talk to — someone not wearing a mask — I'm here." His voice was sincere, not seductive.
I felt the warmth of his words, the kindness of it. "Thank you, Leon."
Then he stepped back politely.
Later, as the reception quieted and we prepared to leave, Damien opened the car door for me. I slid inside, and he followed.
Once the door shut, the silence was almost sharp.
"You're getting friendly with Leon," Damien said at last.
I kept my gaze forward. "He's easy to talk to."
"I don't want you getting involved with him."
I turned to him slowly. "Involved? We were talking."
His jaw tightened. "He was looking at you as if he had the right."
"And what right do you have?" I asked softly.
His gaze snapped to mine. For the first time, I saw something raw flicker beneath the surface — frustration, maybe fear.
"I'm your husband," he said.
The words hung in the air.
I met his stare calmly. "By contract."
His breathing stilled.
He looked like a man who wanted to respond — but couldn't find the words. Or wouldn't admit the ones he felt.
He turned his face away, choosing silence as armor.
And I realized something.
Damien Hale might own the company.
He might control the contract.
He might command the world.
But when it came to controlling his emotions —
He was losing that battle.
And I had barely begun to fight mine.